


Cutthroat Kitchen: Call the Po-Peeps

by Molespeople



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Gen, I watch too much Cutthroat Kitchen okay, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molespeople/pseuds/Molespeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chef Jake Peralta was pretty happy with his life working in his food truck. And then he heard about the show, Cutthroat Kitchen. In that moment, he made competing on the show his new life goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutthroat Kitchen: Call the Po-Peeps

**Author's Note:**

> I should be working on my NaNoWriMo, but then I was watching Cutthroat Kitchen last night and one of the competitors looked like Andy Samberg (if you squinted). It spawned this. I wrote enough to get it out of my system for the system- Updates may appear periodically. Also not beta'ed, sorry, not sorry.

A bespectacled man in a suit flourishes a metal case. “I have $100,000 of cold, hard cash in this case. Four chefs get $25,000 each. If they want to leave this kitchen with any of the cash, they have to survive three culinary challenges. And each other.” He looks at the camera, a glint in his eye. “In a game where sabotage is not only encouraged, it’s for sale.” It’s a game we like to call Cutthroat Kitchen. “

\------

A woman with a stern look on her face stomps down the stairs, her curly hair bouncing with each movement. Her progress to her station is bisected by a video where she stares into a camera. “I am Chef Rosa Diaz and I’m an executive chef.” Her eyes flicker to a point off-screen. “I’m not going to say where, I don’t want you weirdos to know where I work.” She stares at the camera before sighing. “My competitors should watch their backs.” She stares at the camera and grits her teeth. “Because cutthroat is my middle name,” she mimics in a dull monotone. The picture cuts to Rosa standing at her station. She proceeds to sharpen her knives, staring at the staircase.

A small man with a happy smile starts to jog down the stares. “Hi! My name is Charles Boyle. I used to own my own restaurant, Boyle’s, but for some reason it didn’t catch on…and my ex-wife got in the divorce.” He stares blankly at the camera. “Now, I have a new restaurant. I make the second-best fusion pizza you’ll find in New York. I know this because I have a chart.” He reaches into his chef’s jacket before pausing. “Anyways, I would liken my love of food to that of a love for a child that you just happen to eat at least three times a day.“

Chef Charles approaches his station at gives Rosa a serious look. “You better watch out.” He starts to wiggle around in place. “This floor is pretty slippery.” Chef Rosa gives him a weird look. 

A woman begins to primly walk down the stairs. “My name is Amy Santiago. I’m the sous chef for a very respected chef here in New York City. He’s been nominated for several James Beard award.” Amy looks into the camera and smiles smugly. “I’ve been cooking since I was three years old and if I may say so, my palate has always been very sophisticated. I love competing in food competitions. There’s something that’s so delicious about validation of my culinary knowledge and talent, because I almost always win.” Chef Amy arrives at her station and waves at her competitors. “I hope you guys have prepped,” she pauses dramatically. “For your inevitable failure.”

A skinny brown-haired man begins to skip down the stairs. Chef Amy’s confident air fades and her jaw drops. The scene fades to the man staring into the camera. “Hi. I’m Jake Peralta. Chef. I don’t even care if I win any money. I am literally here to mess with everyone... but especially with Chef Amy Santiago.”

Chef Jake leans against his station. “Hello, Amy Santiago,” he drawls, the tone of his voice deepening like an emphysemic demon.


End file.
